


Extreme Trauma

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [25]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Injured Ianto Jones, M/M, Might just be an excuse for cuddling, Repentent Jack Harkness, Unconventional magical remedies, Wrapping up the 4-5-6 arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:32:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Once Jack reports to the Queen, Ianto revives, but with complications.  Assistance is requested from several quarters as they try to puzzle out why Ianto's healing factor has become impaired.  Jack is just beginning to realize how his unkindness might have affected Ianto.  Can he make it right?





	Extreme Trauma

Jack carefully carried Ianto’s body down to the med-bay.  Owen had stuck him with some sort of sedative, so he needed to move slowly until he could metabolize it.  He wasn’t sure whether to be insulted that Owen thought he’d just fall to pieces, or grateful for the momentary reprieve from the full force of what had just happened.

Truth be told, he was barely holding himself together, even with the sedative.  He knew his words had hurt Ianto, but he had not realized how much the culmination of several days of tension and unkindness had impacted the wizard until those last words they’d shared.  Ianto had thanked him for being _kind_ – as though Jack was saying he loved him, just to soothe his passing, and not because he actually meant it.

Gods and goddesses, what had he done?

He knew they’d had harsh words, even before the children began chanting.  He’d been a total arse about two different people referring to them as a couple, and had taken Ianto’s pleased response as proof that the younger man was pushing his agenda – for Jack to move in with him.  He knew now it wasn’t true, that Ianto had just been just _happy_. 

And wasn’t that a kick in the head?  For all his mad fearlessness, fierce intelligence, raw power, and wicked wit, how much actual happiness had Ianto actually enjoyed in his young life?  And here Jack was, pissing all over what little he’d managed to find…

_Idiot!_

Too late he remembered Luna’s words about needing to lighten up about 21st century labels if he wasn’t willing to have the 51st century openness that made the labels unnecessary.  He’d been working on that, but it was difficult to overcome a century of habit.  After all, how many times had he died early on, for being too open?

Really, he’d meant the snark about the couple label to be a proverbial shot across the bow – a warning for Ianto to stop pushing.  He hadn’t expected his lover to take his words to heart.  Jack wasn’t willing to share, and he certainly didn’t want to be single.  The conversation had devolved from there, and to his shame, he had allowed Ianto to believe that he was rejecting him.  And it had rattled Ianto enough that he had somehow inadvertently damaged their bond. 

And that terrified him.  What if Ianto didn’t revive, because of it?  Jack no longer had eternity before him, but he had no wish to live out whatever time he did have left, in a world without Ianto Jones in it.

Jack gently lay Ianto down on the autopsy table, kissing his forehead before straightening.  That last moment had been like déjà vu.  After Owen had run for the med-bay, Ianto looked blindly into Jack’s face.  “Can’t see you,” he whispered, reaching up. 

Jack caught his hand and held it to his face.  “I’m right here.”

Ianto drew in one last rattling breath, and his exhale carried a single word.

“Jack.”

It had been too much like the night Gray had used that terrible weapon on Ianto. 

Owen approached with a soft cloth and a basin of warm water.  “Let me get him cleaned up.  You need to report back to Her Majesty and gold command.”

“Toshiko, please tell Her Majesty I will report to her in twenty minutes,” Jack said quietly.  As Tosh left the med-bay, Jack took the cloth from Owen’s hand.  “I’ll do this.”  With great care and deliberation, Jack washed Ianto’s face, gently removing the blood, mucus, and whatever else had been pouring from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

Owen leaned in from the opposite side of the table and slowly lifted each eyelid.  He gave a sigh of relief that Ianto’s eyes seemed to be intact.  When he had apparated back to the hub, he had collapsed under Jack’s weight, allowing the bubble-head charms to drop away from them both and removing the goggles that had hidden his eyes from the 4-5-6.  When he was slimed, the goggles had kept the substance from his eyes, but they’d done nothing to prevent the fumes from doing enough damage to affect his eyesight. 

Owen frowned, looking at the cut above the wizard’s eyebrow.  “I don’t like it that this still hasn’t healed,” he muttered.

“That’s from the brawl on the estate, right?” Jack had gotten the story – and had watched the CCTV footage – while they were still in lockdown.

“Yeah.”  Normally it would have healed within twenty-four hours, and Owen was feeling damned concerned that it had barely begun to mend, three days later.  He gestured to Donna, who had managed to remove Ianto’s shoes and socks without difficulty.  They began soaking him down with saline as they cut away his clothing, letting the solution help lift the material from his skin.  He had extensive chemical burns, and in some places, his clothes had become fused to his skin. 

Jack finished washing Ianto’s face and neck and just stared at him.  Owen broke him from his reverie, saying, “Help us turn him over and see how bad his back is.”

Ianto was burned and blistered over most of his torso.  The worst of the damage was to his upper arms, back, and buttocks; his chest and the tops of his thighs looked scorched, but were not badly blistered.  Somehow, his groin and genitals had been mostly spared.  Owen idly speculated that different fabrics must have reacted differently with the chemicals in the air on the alien ship.

As Owen attached a heart-rate monitor to Ianto’s index finger to alert them when he revived, Jack left the med-bay.  He whooped in a breath, studiously avoiding the traitorous doubts that were eroding any sense of calm the sedative might have provided.  When he reached Tosh’s workstation, he saw that she had two monitors up on video conference.  The gold command meeting was still convened in COBRA, and Her Majesty was at the desk in her office.  She spoke first.  “Captain Harkness, what can you report?”

“The threat has been neutralized, ma’am,” he said wearily.

“You really expect us to believe that?” Frobisher interrupted.  “The children were just making some horrible noise, not thirty minutes ago.”

“Check with the observatory at Jodrell Bank,” Jack replied, and Green looked to the UNIT specialist who had been assigned to liaise with observatory at the University of Manchester.

The specialist, who had been waiting to make his report, spoke up.  “Jodrell Bank confirms that a very large object was seen leaving a position on the far side of the moon approximately twenty-five minutes ago.”

“Headed this way?” Colonel Oduya asked, startled.

“No, Sir.  It appears to have crashed into the sun, approximately twenty-four minutes ago.”

The atmosphere in COBRA was a strange mixture of profound relief from the lower ranking officials present and heightened tension from those of higher authority.

“How?” Prime Minister Green asked belligerently.  General Pierce was back in the conference room, and he looked as though he wanted to question Jack, as well.

“We cycled their wavelength back at them,” Jack replied.

“A constructive wave?” Dekker spoke up from the back of the room.

“I thought I told you to keep running, Mr. Dekker,” Jack snarled.

“It would never work.  The effect would be like shouting at the 4-5-6.  That’s all, just shouting.”

Jack looked at Tosh, who was out of the camera’s line of sight.  She rolled her eyes.

“One of the children didn’t make it onto the 4-5-6’s ship, that night in 1965.  The aliens had tuned in to him, but they left him behind.  We located him and brought him in to protective custody.  When we confronted the alien in Thames House, they transmitted a signal that killed him.  We posited that they would not have done that, unless he’d posed some sort of threat to them.  So we copied the signal they used to kill him and then sent it back, in the form of a constructive wave.”

Dekker frowned as he thought through Jack’s explanation.  Green and Frobisher were both staring at him as he began to nod.  “Yeah, I suppose that would do it.”  He looked up, his eyes narrowed.  “But how did you transmit it?”

Green caught on, a gleam in his eye.  “You sacrificed a child, didn’t you, Captain?  For all your righteous indignation and noble words, you actually killed a child.”

Jack was too tired and worried to be angry.  “Actually, it was one of my operatives.  He found a way to key in to the aliens, and we sent the wave through him.”

“But how, if he’s not a child?” Dekker demanded.

“That’s classified,” Jack replied.

“You will answer the question,” the prime minister ordered.

“I do not answer to you, Green,” Jack sneered.  “Once again I will remind you, Torchwood answers directly to the crown.”

“And the crown is well aware of who bravely stepped forward in our hour of need, as well as how it was done.  And don’t for one minute think that I have forgotten that you tried to destroy Torchwood, despite your certain knowledge of those who fall under my protection,” the Queen quietly raged, and Green visibly shrank under her ire.

She drew herself up.  “Mr. Green, Mr. Frobisher,” her eyes narrowed, “and based on Captain Harkness’ earlier comment, Mr. Dekker, you will all answer directly to me for defying me.  That is, after the public are done with you.  I am hereby authorizing Torchwood to make all footage of these gold command meetings a matter of public record.”

“What?” Green blustered.  “These meetings are meant to be confidential.  How do you expect your government to function, if it cannot operate covertly, when necessary?  You can’t do that!”

“I most certainly _can_ do that, Mr. Green.  You deliberately attempted to dismantle the one agency that was equipped to handle the threat, and then attempted to deal with that threat yourself in the most incompetent, underhanded, unethical, and ineffective way imaginable.  At the end of the day, it was Torchwood that resolved the issue, as is its remit.”

“We also recovered the children given to the 4-5-6 in 1965, ma’am,” Jack added.

The Queen frowned at his choice of words.  “Were you able to save any of them?”

Jack shook his head.  “They did not survive, ma’am.”

She sighed.  “Well, I pray they may finally find some peace.”

Green spoke up.  “And we are meant to take your word for that?  How do we know you didn’t use the children you freed in order to send back that constructive wave?”

Anticipating the ugly accusation, Tosh had been working on some of the CCTV footage, removing all evidence of Ianto’s eyes shifting to a glittering golden hue.  On a tightly controlled signal that could not be copied or captured without being scrambled, she provided a short playback of Ianto screaming the constructive wave signal before he had fully transfigured.  The Queen held a handkerchief to her face, at the sight.  Those in COBRA sat back, pale and sober.

“Did… Did he survive?” the Queen asked.

Jack slumped.  “He’s in bad shape, ma’am.  We aren’t certain that he will,” he answered.  “We will keep you posted.”  He straightened, once more.  “I think we’re done, here,” Jack nodded to Tosh to end the video conference with COBRA. 

“Was it legilimency?” the Queen asked, once the conference was only between Toshiko’s computer and hers.  “Is that how he was able to carry the wave?”

Jack nodded, once more impressed by the Queen’s ability to gather information from varied and disparate sources and form valid conclusions.

“He looked quite ill at tea the other day.  I imagine establishing such a connection would have been very unpleasant.”

“He has had a difficult few days,” Jack answered with regret.

“Uncle Jack, I am so sorry,” the Queen said, tears in her eyes. 

Jack nodded, not able to speak, for a moment.

“Thank you – to you and your team – for taking care of this,” she said.  “And do not worry.  I will see that the government gets a thorough housecleaning.  Forced retirement for Dekker and Frobisher, I think, and we shall leave Green and his cronies to the wolves.  They will retire to the country and live out their days in shamed obscurity.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Jack bowed his head, and she ended the call.

“Jack?” Owen called a few minutes later.  “We’ve got a heartbeat.”

“So soon?” Jack frowned, running for the med-bay.

“But he hasn’t healed, yet!” Donna exclaimed as Jack raced down the stairs.

Within seconds, the silence in the hub was shattered by a feral, agonized scream.  It was a strange noise, but Jack supposed Ianto had already strained his vocal chords when caught in the constructive wave.  Then he frowned.  It was too soon.  Why had he revived, if he wasn’t healed?

He reached Ianto’s side in the next moment.  Donna had been trying to hold him still while touching him as little as possible, but he was going to do himself even more harm if he wasn’t restrained, somehow.  He fell back to the table, struggling for breath, but curled up off of it again with another scream.  He flung an arm over his face, trying to cover his eyes.  Jack caught him, wrapping his left arm around Ianto’s shoulder.  He found a clean cloth on the instrument tray next to the table and held it over Ianto’s eyes.  The wizard dropped his arm, but kept screaming.

“Ianto, we’re here,” Jack tried to soothe as Ianto struggled in his arms.  He felt the skin on Ianto’s back splitting open, then found his shirt sleeve becoming soaked in the serum weeping from the chemical burn blisters as they tore apart.  As gently as he could, he tried to hold Ianto still, tried to keep him from doing even more damage.

“Tosh, in my bedside table is a heavy sleep mask.  Can you bring hit here, please?” he asked, having to raise his voice to be heard above Ianto’s anguished screams.  He saw her run for his bunker before turning his head back to the man suffering in his arms.

Ianto grabbed great fistfuls of Jack’s shirt and buried his face in Jack’s chest.  “Please!” he cried.  “Please help me!”  Then he was screaming again, his grip on Jack’s shirt tearing it, in places.

“You’re safe, Love,” he spoke calmly, though his own heart was racing as the adrenaline kicked in.  “We have you.”  He looked at Owen.  “Owen?”

“Just another second,” Owen was looking at his computer screen, trying to quickly calculate the maximum dosage he could give Ianto without killing him again, and magic be damned, this time.  As soon as he had it, he grabbed the bottle of alien painkiller he had developed and filled a syringe.  Without further hesitation, he plunged the needle into the flesh at Ianto’s hip.  Then he turned back to his supplies, reaching for another bottle and a fresh syringe.

Within thirty seconds, Ianto’s screams faded away, but it was clear that he was still in a tremendous amount of pain, given how he was still clinging to Jack and gasping in distress.  “Please,” he whispered, and Jack quickly shoved down the unwelcome memories that were arising.  Memories of attentions from the Master.  Ianto had not begged for death then.  He had known that his death would only lead to Jack being forced to revive him, and he had refused to give the Master that satisfaction.  He had, however, begged for the pain to stop.

That’s not what this sounded like.  

Jack knew the wizard was begging for death, and it frightened him.  The Master had never managed to truly break Ianto.  Somehow, this had, and though Jack could not help but wonder why, the more important thing in this moment was to somehow provide relief to the younger man’s suffering.

Owen approached and gave another injection.  Ianto’s grip on Jack’s shirt gradually slackened, and his body very slowly began to uncoil.  Owen disentangled the sheet from Ianto’s legs and lower body, then helped Jack to lower him back onto the table, covering him once more.

Jack quickly removed his shirt, which was soaked in blister fluid and splotched with blood.  “Owen, what the hell is happening?  Why did he revive so soon?”

Owen was scanning Ianto and as he read the results, he swore.  “Looks like he healed barely enough to revive.”  He looked at Jack.  “Before,” he waved his arm towards the main level of the hub, “he was in the shape he was in mostly because he’d swallowed whatever the alien had slimed him with.  His oesophagus was damaged, he’d puked up most of his stomach lining, and the stomach itself and everything in between was turning to Swiss cheese.  Added to that, he’d breathed in their toxic atmosphere, so his lungs were damaged, as well.  Lesions had formed, and most likely that damage would have killed him, first.”

Jack found he needed to lean against the table in order to stay on his feet.  “And now?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Owen ran a hand through his hair.  “Now, everything seems mostly intact, but raw and dangerously fragile.”  He looked at Jack.  “I’d like to call Draco for help.  Hell, if they can regrow bones overnight, maybe they have something that can help with organ damage.”

Jack nodded.  “Do it.”

To his surprise, Owen took a galleon out of his pocket and pressed it, just so.  Tosh brought Jack the sleeping mask, and he turned to Ianto.  He ran a hand through the wizard’s hair, which seemed brittle and coarse.  He was surprised when he drew away a handful of it.  He looked up at Owen, shocked.

“Yeah, whatever burned you both probably scorched his hair.  Might want to go ahead and get rid of it.”  He tossed Jack a cordless hair trimmer that he’d pulled from somewhere.

Jack began carefully clipping Ianto’s hair, leaving about an eighth of an inch that hadn’t been damaged.

“He’s going to love that,” Donna said, trying to lighten the mood.  It seemed to have the opposite effect as big, fat tears finally began rolling down Jack’s cheeks.  “Hey,” she reached out, stilling his hands.  “You take a minute.  Let me do this, yeah?  Used to do it for my dad, all the time.” She took the clippers and as she worked, Jack held Ianto’s hand and tried to pull himself together.  Once she was finished, Jack placed the sleep mask over Ianto’s eyes, hoping it would protect them from the harsh lighting of the hub, the next time he woke.

In the next moment, Draco apparated into the med-bay.  He was facing Owen, and had his back to the table.  “Owen, I may have to ask for a raincheck.  People are going crazy over this thing with the kids.”

“Yeah.  Well, they can relax, because the aliens have been taken care of,” Owen sighed.

“Really?” Draco smiled.  “Should have known you lot would take care of it.”  He frowned at Owen’s expression.  “What’s wrong?”

Owen reached out and took hold of Draco’s arm, to keep him from turning around.  He quickly described the aliens, their ship, their toxic environment and slime.  Then he told him that Ianto and Jack had apparated to the ship.

“Wait, you said the ship was on the far side of the moon,” Draco cut in.

“Yeah.  So?” Owen did not want to be interrupted.

“So,” Draco looked pale, “there’s a reason we use port-keys if we’re going more than a few hundred miles.  Few can go more than a thousand miles, without risking injury.”  He sighed.  “Is that why you called me here?  Did he splinch?”

“Oh, Christ.  Now we have to worry about something called splinching?” Owen looked alarmed for a moment, then calmed himself.  “You can check him out in a minute, but the real problem is what happened on the ship, and then when he got back here.”  He quickly explained.

Jack noticed that Owen still had a hand wrapped around Draco’s arm, holding him in place.  Draco listened intently, growing more pale as Owen described Ianto’s injuries.  By the time Owen was done, Draco had stepped into his healer role.  “May I turn around now?” he asked calmly.

Owen released his arm and nodded.  Draco turned and, pulling out his wand, approached the table.  “Damn it, Nif,” he muttered.  After a few incantations that showed him the full extent of the damage, he turned back to Owen.  “With your permission, I would like to bring Susan back, as well as some potions and remedies that will facilitate his healing.”

Just then, a loud pop was heard in the main part of the hub, followed by Mickey swearing.  “Hey, Nif!  Luna and her team say the aliens are gone.  Kingsley wants a report.”  Harry reached the railing overlooking the med-bay, and now he began swearing.  “What the hell happened?” he asked, rushing down the stairs.

Draco turned back to Owen.  “I know you’re not going to get Jack out of here, but I really think you should clear this area so you, Susan and I have enough room to work.”

Owen nodded.  Donna took Harry by the arm and led him up the stairs, explaining what had happened.  Owen asked Mickey and Rhys to move the alien’s carcass down to the morgue cooler, then worked to clean the area as thoroughly as he could.  Within a quarter hour, the place was clean and tidy, with a work surface cleared for their guests, and Draco arrived with Susan.

As calmly as she could, Susan began doing an incantation to triage Ianto’s injuries and determine the order of treatment.  “Lungs are the worst,” she said.  “But we have to repair the damage to his oesophagus so we can administer the potions.”

“Got it,” Draco handed her a yellow potion bottle.  When they arrived, Draco had gone to the work surface Owen had cleared for them and from a modestly sized medical bag unpacked a rack of potion bottles, a multi-drawer case of potion ingredients, and – much to Owen’s amusement – a simmering cauldron, complete with fire beneath it.

“Now you’re just showing off,” Owen smirked.

Draco gave a half-hearted smile as he added another ingredient to the potion he was working on.  Then he grabbed a dark blue bottle from the rack and handed it to Susan.

She had asked Jack to sit Ianto upright and tip his head back.  He held his lover as she tipped the contents of the yellow bottle into his mouth.  She then pointed her wand and somehow contracted his neck and throat muscles, essentially forcing him to swallow.  Even unconscious, he gave a low moan of protest.

Once Jack lay Ianto back down, she waited a few minutes, then poured the contents of the blue bottle into his mouth.  This time, he swallowed automatically.  “The body knows to do it, as long as the damage isn’t too great,” she explained.  She looked at Owen.  “Breathing will still be painful, but there’s a potion,” she nodded as Draco handed Owen a light blue bottle, “that will ease the pain.  I think one of those muggle inhalo things might be the best way to administer it.”

“Inhaler,” Owen nodded, rummaging through a drawer and extracting a kit.  In no time, he had loaded an inhaler with the potion.

Susan turned back and repeated the triage incantation.  “Gods, every major system has been mutilated,” she muttered.  “His heart is in fair shape, but strained from the distress.  Liver is next.  But not for a few minutes.”

Draco handed over a brown bottle.  When the time was right, she poured the contents into Ianto’s mouth.  She repeated the process for each organ system, taking extra time repairing Ianto’s stomach, replacing the stomach lining, and then reintroducing the proper balance of flora and gut microbiota.

It took several hours, but eventually, Ianto’s innards had been given everything they needed in order to heal properly.

“None of this has effected instant healing,” Susan explained over a cup of tea.  Donna was watching over Ianto as the rest of the team, along with Harry, Kingsley, and Luna listened to the healers give their report.  Harry had gone to fetch the others almost as soon as Donna had finished telling him everything.  Martha and Tom had also arrived, and had observed the healers as they worked on their friend.

“What we have done is give his body what it needs in order to repair itself as efficiently as possible,” Draco added.  “But what we need to find out now is why his healing factor is impaired.”

“I was afraid of that,” Owen muttered.  “What can cause that to happen?”

“Other than extreme trauma?  I really don’t know,” Draco replied.  “Based on what you’ve told me about how ill performing legilimency on the aliens made him, we need to check his brain function, next.”

“And quickly.  I want to get him in the goop before he wakes again, or the burns will be agony,” Susan said.  “The organ healing will be painful enough, as it is.”

“Goop?” Martha asked.

“Beowulf Bowen’s Burn Balm,” Susan smiled.  “We call it the goop.  We’ll pretty much have to encase him in it.”  She frowned.  “Though it does work better, with heat.”

“I’m sure we can find some volunteers,” Draco chuckled.

“What, like a heated blanket?” Owen asked, curious.

“Body heat is ideal,” Susan replied.

“Oh, Christ.  Are we back to spooning with the wizard boy again?” Owen griped.

“As I recall, you never did,” Jack said, a ghost of a smile on his face.  “But I’m always up for cuddling with Ianto.”

“I’ll help too,” Donna said, as Mickey and Tosh agreed, as well.  Even Martha and Tom were nodding.  “But does that mean we’ll get goopy, too?”

“No, Bowen’s is pretty tidy,” Draco replied.  “It feels a bit strange against your skin, but it doesn’t stick to it.  Nif will be pretty goopy, but I don’t think he’ll mind, given it relieves pain as it heals the burns.”

“C’mon,” Owen said, standing.  “I’ve got a baseline brain scan, and I’ve been doing more as the week has progressed.  I’ve seen some reactivity, but let’s see where he is, now.”  He winked at Martha.  “You’ll enjoy this.  A wizard’s brain is like Candyland.” 

Martha let out a small laugh as she and Tom followed Owen, Draco, and Susan back down to the med-bay.  Luna grabbed Jack’s hand before he could follow.  “I don’t need to see his brain scans,” she said pointedly.

The others wandered back to their work areas as Rhys tidied up.  Tosh took the opportunity to show Kingsley and Harry CCTV footage from the past few days.

“Last weekend, he asked me to move in with him,” Jack began.  “And I asked him to give me some time.  It’s been decades since I’ve been with someone, and never like this.  He said he understood, and I loved him madly for it.”

Luna nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“And then, the morning the kids started chanting, two different people referred to us as a couple.  Ianto went all moony-eyed over it, and I immediately thought he was pushing – that he hadn’t understood, after all.  I got all bitchy and told him I didn’t like the word couple.  Said it was limiting.  I was just trying to get him to back off, but then he pretty much uninvited me to move in, which perversely made me even angrier.  He asked if I objected to the concept itself, or the concept being applied to us.”  He hung his head.  “I didn’t meant it, Luna.  I swear I didn’t.”

“What did you say?” she asked quietly, her face full of compassion.

“I said both.  I said I objected to both.  And he…” he let out a small sob.  “He shut down our telepathic bond.”

Luna drew in a breath.  Then frowned.  “Telepaths are rare, but not unheard of.  From what I understand, that’s normal, when a telepathic couple argues.  It keeps things from getting further out of hand, in the heat of the moment.  Helps give some distance for regrouping and getting tempers under control.”

“Maybe,” Jack said.  “The next night, he was talking about not making trouble, though.  Like he thought it was over.”

Luna frowned.  “That’s not like Ianto.  He wouldn’t just give up, like that.  Had something happened, in the meantime?”

Jack shook his head, then remembered.  “He’d read the aliens for the first time, earlier in the day.”  He frowned.  “They’d reminded him of his childhood, and it had rattled him.”

“How on earth did the aliens remind him of his childhood?”

“They used the children they took in 1965 as a drug.”  He clutched her hand as she blanched.  “Ianto said their craving for their next ‘hit’ reminded him of when his father was craving firewhisky.”

“Oh, no,” she said.  “And we know his father was abusive.  What if some of the things the bastard used to say to Ianto somehow made what you’d said… believable?”

Now it was Jack’s turn to blanch.  “Oh, gods.  It only gets worse, Luna.  Clem – one of the kids from 1965, who got away – he shot me, right after I admitted to being the one who took the children to hand them over to the aliens.”  He looked away, his shame still overwhelming.  “I thought Ianto would be disgusted, so I shoved him away from me, before he could shove me away from him.”

“Oh, Jack,” she sighed, knowing Ianto would not have done such a thing.

“But he defended me.  Donna told me, later.  He defended me to the team, then made coffee and brought it to me.  And I just needed a minute, you know?  I… I started having a panic attack.  And instead of asking him to give me a minute, I shoved him away again.”  He looked at Luna, his eyes begging her to understand.  “I had my gun in my hand.  I was terrified I would hurt him.  And I did.  I didn’t shoot him, but I hurt him.”

“What did you say?” she asked again, still without judgment.

“I told him he was pretending, thinking he knew me at all.  I told him he knew nothing.  I told him…” his voice broke.  “I said, ‘You actually think I’ve been happy, these past few months.’”  He hung his head and let out a sob.  “Which I have.  But I let him think…”

Luna reached out and clutched his hand.  “So reading the aliens was bringing up old trauma, probably words from his father that he’s worthless and unlovable, and then your words…  He became convinced that you don’t love him anymore.”  She rubbed her forehead.  “Okay.  We need to go confirm this.”

“How?” Jack asked.

“You know a muggle version of legilimency.  You and I are going to go see if this is the trauma that has affected his healing factor.”

“Not without his permission,” Jack crossed his arms across his chest.

“Do we really have permission to be pouring potions down his throat?”  She reached out and took his hand.  “Jack, of all the things you’ll need to apologize to him for when he recovers, this will be the least of them.”

Jack gave a dark chuckle.  “All right,” he gave in.

As they headed down to the med-bay, they saw the doctors and healers standing before Owen’s monitor.  Owen looked up at Jack.  “Jack, it’s like his brain is on fire,” he said, his expression haunted.

Jack frowned and came around to look at the monitor.  He looked at the screen and sucked in a breath.  “What am I seeing, here?” he asked.  He didn’t know much about brain anatomy, but he knew enough to realize that something was terribly wrong, here.

“Parietal lobe,” Owen pointed.  “That’s pain sensation and vision signals.  Occipital lobe, vision.  Temporal lobe, memory.”  The view changed.  “Thalamus, pain sensation and memory.  Limbic system, center of emotions and memory.  Amygdala, emotional reactions.  Hippocampus, long-term memory.  They’re all lit up like they’ve been irradiated.”  Another view.  “Even his optic nerve is inflamed.”

“But what does it mean?” Jack asked.

“His pain centers are on fire,” Owen scrubbed a hand over his face.  “Means he’s feeling everything, with no filters or relief.  His memory centers are inflamed.  Means it’s open season on every trauma he’s ever endured.  Vision centers and optic nerve mean he’s going to need that eye mask for a good long while, yet.”

“It’s physical damage, but… these are psychic wounds.  I…” Draco faltered.  He looked at Susan, whose tears were falling freely.  “We don’t have anything that can help with this,” he said, looking rattled at realizing his helplessness.

Martha caught Jack’s eye.  “I think we know someone who can help.”  She pulled out her phone and raised an eyebrow.  At Jack’s jerky nod, she dialed a number and climbed the steps out of the med-bay to complete her call.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Luna said, taking Jack’s hand.  She led him to the end of the table, where they both reached out and touched Ianto’s head.  “Ooh,” she muttered, running her hand over the silky stubble. 

Jack let out a choked chuckle.  She pulled out her wand and muttered, “ _Legilimens_ ,” as he closed his eyes and entered his lover’s mind.

The first thing Jack noticed was the pain.  Ianto may have been unconscious, but his pain was breathtaking, nevertheless.  He felt Luna take his hand, and they reached back through Ianto’s memories of the past few days.  They saw the first argument, and Jack standing in his office, with his arms crossed over his chest and his face stony.  They felt that Ianto’s confidence was shaken, but he had not given up.  They felt his annoyance at the estate kids, and his sorrow as Rhiannon stood with her arms crossed over chest, a look of pure hatred and hostility painted on her features.

Next came Ianto’s rage over the bomb, and his swift reaction in getting rid of it, capturing and questioning the kill team, and getting Alice and Steven to safety.  Then the pain of his first use of legilimency to find the aliens.  How that pain somehow served to convince him that Jack was done with him.  His confusion over Jack’s attempt to let him know he had misunderstood him.

The argument as Jack fought off a panic attack.  Ianto’s awareness that Jack was struggling.  Jack’s words, “Now who’s pretending?  You know nothing.”

The flashback, in all its painful recall, both of Rhiannon’s venom and his father’s words.  “No use pretending, boy.  You’re nothing!  You’ll never amount to anything, and you’ll certainly never win anyone’s love.”

Finally, Ianto’s words to his grandfather.  “Stupid, really.  To think someone like me could hold on to someone like him.”

Stepping out of Ianto’s mind felt like slowly withdrawing from a mud bog.  They were still mired in his despair, and they held onto one another for a moment, weeping at the pain and confusion they had just witnessed.

“Well,” Owen muttered, “that doesn’t look promising.”

Ianto gave a moan, and Owen hurried over to start an IV before injecting another dose of painkillers and sedative.  As the wizard seemed to settle, Jack said, “He’s in a lot of pain, even unconscious.”

Owen nodded.  “I figured.  But there’s really nothing more we can do.”

“Let’s get out the goop,” Susan said, rallying.  She really hoped Martha could convince her friend to help.

It only took a few minutes as Draco levitated Ianto and Susan opened the huge container of Beowulf Bowen’s Burn Balm and sort of encased Ianto in the stuff, from his neck down.  She then expanded the table and conjured a mattress and linens before Draco rotated Ianto’s body and gently lowered him onto the mattress, arranging him in the recovery position.

Draco looked around.  “Okay, who’s taking the first shift, snuggling with our goopy Niffler?”

Jack began disrobing.  Shrugging a shoulder, Donna began undressing, as well.  “All of our clothes?” she asked.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.  But bare skin is the most helpful for generating heat through the goop,” Susan answered.

Draco lifted Ianto again, allowing him to be draped over Jack.  Donna crawled into the bed behind Ianto and pulled the sheet up.  “Ew,” she said.  The goop reminded her of the water wiggler child’s toy that felt wet and slimy but wasn’t.  Once covered, she unhooked her bra and tossed it at Owen, who chuckled.  “I’m keeping my pants, thank you,” she sniffed.

Jack felt Ianto’s goopy hand flex along his chest.  There was more pain and anguish than comfort and relief in the whispered, “Jack.”

***

**Author's Note:**

> Well, the final part has turned into two parts. Here's the first bit. It's a lot messier than I had anticipated, but I did make quite a mess, in trying to fix all the stuff from CoE that didn't make sense to me. And I had to wrap up the loose ends on the government side. 
> 
> The next part is in progress, and Jack is only now beginning to whisper to me how he's going to make things right with Ianto. But I hope it won't take two weeks to write...
> 
> Despite the angst, hope you enjoy - thanks for reading!


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